


Ululate Super Vos

by brokenstereotype



Series: I Blame Hunting Hee Hoo [1]
Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Feels, Hurt Ethan, M/M, Wolf! Mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26201167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenstereotype/pseuds/brokenstereotype
Summary: Mark is a wolf. He goes feral.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Series: I Blame Hunting Hee Hoo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906252
Comments: 19
Kudos: 184





	Ululate Super Vos

**Author's Note:**

> Let's not kid ourselves, this is because of Hunting Hee-Hoo.

The first time Mark shifts in front of him, it's beautiful. 

His wolf is golden with specks of black and he's strong, as strong as Mark is. He’s protective of Ethan, loves when his boy scratches behind his ears and lets him use his body as a pillow when he's tired.

Mark only shifts to his wolf form when he's stressed or exhausted. He'd told Ethan once that his wolf is more relaxed - the shift is an escape from everyday human pressures. 

Ethan loves Mark’s wolf just as much as he loves Mark himself. They're the same, but Mark’s wolf is his protector.

This time, when Mark shifts, it's terrifying.

-

“What kind of restaurant doesn't accept credit cards?” Ethan whines, shoving his card in the atm slot forcefully. Mark’s leaning against the machine, idly watching the few people walking down the sidewalk. 

It's late enough that most of the residents in town have drawn their curtains, settling in for the night. A woman hurriedly makes her way down the strip in black heels, a local diners logo printed on her wrinkled polo.

“The kind that has amazing food.” Mark supplies. It's true, but annoying all the same. Ethan punches in his pin number and tries to ignore the rumbling of his stomach.

Ethan sighs melodramatic and whiny, taking out a bit of extra money just in case. He may just treat himself to dessert. 

“I hope they have cake,” Ethan says dreamily, grabbing the money after it's been dispensed. “I'm hungry enough, i could eat-”

And then he's being shoved from behind, his hand crushing between the machine and his own body.

He yelps, staggering around until he's faced with a mystery figure dressed entirely in black. His face is covered with a black bandana and all Ethan can see is his pale blue eyes.

“Give me your money.” The guy demands. Ethan can't move. Can't _breathe_.

“Woah man,” Mark interjects, raising his hands pleadingly. “We don't want any trouble.”

But apparently the guy does. In the next instant, he's got Ethan’s wrist in one tight grip and his knife in Ethan’s stomach.

“Shit, fuck! What the fuck!” Mark’s yelling, hands scrambling at Ethan’s body as he slides to the ground. 

The guy breaks off into a sprint after he's snatched the money, ducking down one of the dark alleyways along the strip. 

Ethan coughs. And then he chokes, hand pressed to the wound seeping blood through his shirt. He's in shock, he knows. But he can't make a sound besides the ragged breaths and wet cough filling his lungs.

Mark’s hands are shaking over his body, either that or it's Ethan that's shaking.

His vision clouds over and the last thing he hears before he passes out is the howl of a pained wolf.

-

Ethan has woken up in a hospital once before, when he was young and had an anaphylactic shock. His dad was there when he had awoken, holding his small hands and looking terrified. 

His dad isn't the one holding his hand this time, it's Amy - Mark’s best friend. She watches him with wide, sorrowful eyes as he comes to. 

“Jesus, Eth.” Is the first thing she says. Her voice cracks and her eyes fill with tears. 

“Yeah.” He says, or tries to. His voice is raspy and dry. Amy gets a cup of water, guiding the straw to his mouth. He lets her fuss over him, fixing his stiff blankets and smacking his hand away from his bandage. 

“Didn't go very deep, but enough to require stitches.” She explains. He breathes out a relieved breath. 

“Where's Mark?” He asks. 

Amy chews at her bottom lip worryingly. 

Suddenly, as if on cue, a loud howl rings through his ears. It's pained and heartbreaking and Ethan’s blood runs cold.

“Fuck.” He says. 

“He won't answer his phone.” Amy sounds scared. 

Ethan breathes, slow and even. His heart monitor slowly returns to a steady beep. 

“Okay.” He decides. “I need to get out of here.” 

Amy nods, “Apparently there's a shortage of beds, so they're releasing you today. I'm gonna go find a doctor.” She places a delicate kiss to his forehead and wipes her eyes as she leaves the room.

-

The doctor tells him to _rest_ and _take it easy_. 

Ethan immediately goes out in search of his werewolf boyfriend.

“Where would he have gone?” Ethan asks desperately. They're in the woods, him and Amy, the first place they thought a scared wolf would go. 

“Some place safe, I'm guessing.” Amy says, stepping over a pile of branches. It's so quiet in the woods, not even a bird chirping overhead. 

“Some place safe? _I'm_ safe -” He looks up to the sky and yells, “I'm _fine,_ Mark!” in hopes that his wolf somehow hears. 

Not even a howl in response. 

“Ethan,” Amy says softly. She stops walking and sighs. “Where does Mark feel most safe?” 

It sounds rhetorical. Ethan’s tense shoulders drop as he realizes it is.

“Home.” He says. _Our home_ , he thinks.

-

Amy drops him off in front of his house. She watches him from the driver seat and squeezes his hand. “Be careful,” She says. “And bring our boy back.”

Ethan hugs her, careful of his wound. He gets out of the car slowly, not just because of his stitches. 

The house is a _wreck_. 

The sofa cushions are torn into shreds, white stuffing spread across the floor like snow. There's claw marks splintering the door and walls like Mark wanted to tear the house down from the inside out.

He takes the steps slowly, scared of what he may find. The door to their bedroom is open and Ethan’s hands shake as he nears the room.

The first thing he notices is that his clothes are all over the room. Shirts and pants and boxers on the bed and the floor and hanging from the drawers. 

The second thing he notices is the lump of golden fur curled into a ball in the corner of the room. Mark's lying on a pile of Ethan’s clothes - the clothes he'd gone to bed in and those he hadn't gotten around to wash yet. 

Clothes that carry the most of his scent. 

Mark eyes him, body tense and head low. 

“Mark,” Ethan approaches cautiously. He keeps his hands out and chin level. "It's me babe - I’m here. I'm okay.”

There's no recognition in Mark’s eyes. 

_Damn,_ he probably wreaks of antiseptic and medicine and straight _hospital._

Ethan takes a step forward and Mark’s lip turns up in a growl. He paws at one of Ethan’s shirts, keeping his claws away from any damage to the fabric.

Ethan’s side aches and he brings a hand to cover the bandage. Slowly, he lowers himself to the floor and leans against the frame of the bed. He's breathing ragged and his forehead starts to bead with sweat. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the mattress.

_In for seven, out for five_. Apparently it works for anxiety attacks _and_ stab wounds.

It startles him when he feels a wet nose at his arm. He hadn't even heard Mark move for however long he's been managing his breathing and nausea.

Mark’s eyes are cautious, but still the same eyes Ethan knows better than his own.

He doesn't move a muscle. 

Mark sniffs at his hand. And then his wrist, the soft skin on the inside of his elbow and when his breath hits Ethan’s neck, he sneezes.

“Oh, bless you.” Ethan coos. He always gets so soft around Mark’s wolf. He freezes as soon as he's said it, Mark’s cold nose pressed against his pulse point.

His wound throbs and he instantly winces, covering the hurt with his palm.

Mark steps back. Stares with rapt attention at where Ethan’s hand is holding. 

He nudges his nose against Ethan’s hand, careful but determined to move his hand out of the way.

And then he whines. 

He uses his nose to lift the hem of Ethan’s shirt so that the bandage is in view. Ethan laughs at the tickle of his wet nose against his sensitive skin. 

“Ugh, gross.” He says with no heat when Mark starts to lick at the skin around the bandage. He instinctively places his fingers at the thin skin behind Mark’s ears and they both freeze.

Ethan holds his breath and moves his fingers as he does when they're laying on the couch, Ethan's cheek against his fur. 

Mark’s body seems to melt at the action and then his ears perk up. He shoves his nose in Ethan’s armpit and sniffs some more. 

And then, like a switch has been flipped, he yips and licks Ethan’s face. Slobber right up the front of his nose and eyes and forehead.

“ _Ma-ark_ ,” Ethan whines, wiping at the spit on his face. 

Mark whuffs in his face and licks his ear.

“I'm here, babe.” He assures, holding his arms open and his chest loosens as soon as Mark lays his front half across his lap. He wraps his arms around as much of Mark’s body as he can and presses his face to his fur.

It takes a few minutes, but Mark’s body shivers and then he shifts, curling up in Ethan’s lap as his human form.

He's naked, as he always is when he shifts back. Usually, Mark flaunts his naked skin with pride, but right now he's vulnerable and Ethan holds his body close to shield him from the world.

Ethan rubs his back, presses kisses to his ear and just lets him _feel_ \- feel that Ethan is here, he's alive and okay. 

Mark moves his face from Ethan’s chest and his face is wet and pale. He looks exhausted and broken.

“Eth-” Mark croaks, voice rough after hours of not using it. 

“I'm here.” Ethan says. 

“You're here.” Mark echoes. He says it with wonder in his voice and wet eyes.


End file.
